Page 113 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

He frowns up at me. “What do you mean?”

Shrugging my shoulders, I try to determine how I can word this without insulting him. “Have you ever spoken to a kelpie?”

He looks at me like I’ve said something particularly stupid. “No, they are vicious.”

“Maybe not always.” I gesture to the fish as proof of what I’m saying. He’s frowning again, and I can tell this is going to turn into an argument, which is the last thing I want right now. He nearly died earlier, and although the nos weed appears to be working—thank the Mother—he’s still weak, so I come up with something to distract him. “Do you know how to cook fish?”

Pausing whatever rant he was about to bestow upon me, he looks between me and the fish then nods.

He sits up and gestures for me to bring the fish to him, which he then begins to fillet. I look away and pack everything back in the bag in case we have to leave the cave quickly for any reason, it’s always best to be prepared. Glancing over my shoulder, I see he’s almost finished preparing it, using the large leaves we used to store our food in as a surface.

“I’ll go and get us some wood to start a fire,” I tell him, and make my way towards the waterfall before glancing through a gap in the cascading water. The sun has almost completely set now, and I don’t relish the thought of leaving the cave in the dark, but I like the idea of eating raw fish even less.

“No need.”

Frowning, I turn from the water to look at him. “What do you mean—” I stop when I see the fish hovering between his hands in a greenish globe. He’s using magic, I sense it. His type of magic feels strange, so different than the magic the magicians use. It’s not bad, just different. I wait silently as he concentrates, his eyes closed, but I can see the toll it’s taking on him, his breathing coming in rapid pants.

The cave fills with the smell of cooked fish and my mouth waters. He drops his hands, the now steaming fish lowering with the movement.

“I thought you couldn’t access your magic,” I comment, as I watch him portion it out onto the large leaves.

“The nos weed is helping, the poison must have been blocking it,” he replies, handing me one of the leaves, and I notice he’s given me the larger portion. Accepting it, I sit down with my back against the rock wall, picking my way through the hot food. It’s delicious and I can’t wait until it’s cooled, licking my fingertips to make sure I get every last piece.

I feel his eyes land on me, and as I raise my gaze, I see he’s watching me with an amused expression. “Thank you,” I blurt, embarrassment tinging my cheeks. I tell myself I’m embarrassed because I didn’t thank him for the food rather than the fact that he saw me gulp down my meal like I was still a starving slave. He just nods and leans back against the wall.

We sit in companionable silence for a while, but once our food has settled, we start making up our sleeping spaces. It’s almost completely dark in here, since no moonlight streams into the cave like I am used to from sleeping in the trees. I’m pleased to be sleeping on solid ground again and not having to tie myself to a branch, and this also means one of us doesn’t have to stay awake to ensure we don’t fall. Besides, I don’t think anyone would dare disturb us with kelpies guarding the lake. I’m not, however, relishing the thought of sleeping on hard rock. Sure, I managed for the last twelve years, but even though I spent a short time with Grayson, my body has become used to the soft pillows and mattresses. My heart pangs at the thought of Grayson and the guilt I feel because I didn’t get to say goodbye or explain why I left.

Rolling up one of the spare pieces of clothing as a pillow, I settle myself on the hard ground, using my cloak as a blanketwhile Vaeril does the same on the other side of the cave. Closing my eyes, I try to sleep, but I soon discover a problem. It’s freezing in here.

Vaeril was right when he told me it was warmer in the forest. Up in the trees, once we were wrapped in our cloaks, it was quite cosy, but here, near the large body of water, it’s much colder and the chill from the stone is seeping into my bones, making my body ache.

“Either come over here or stop moving around so much,” Vaeril barks, as I roll over onto my side again for what seems like the hundredth time.

“It-it’s s-so cold,” I say between chattering teeth, my arms wrapped tightly around my body in a desperate bid to keep myself warm.

“Then. Come. Here,” he demands, and although he sounds annoyed, I can hear a note of concern in his voice. “You humans are so delicate,” he mutters, as I gather up my cloak and makeshift pillow. I use my hands to feel out the ground in front of me until they land on something warm.

Grunting, he makes some comment about poor human eyesight, and I know I’ve reached him. I set down my pillow, drape my cloak over my body, and slide my hand along the floor, feeling for the edge of his cloak. My hand brushes warm, bare skin and I pause for a moment until I realise it’s his arm.

“Just lie down,” he grinds out, his other arm reaching across and pulling me half across him. I gasp in shock as I lie sprawled across his chest, thankfully not pressing on his wound.

I freeze, my mind slow to process what’s just happened. His body is all hard edges and firm muscles, but also gloriously warm. My fatigue and the stress of the day finally hits me, overriding my logic as the primal, survival part of me takes over, and I snuggle into the warmth.

He lets out a hiss when my cold fingers press against any bare skin they can find. A sigh of contentment escapes me, the link between us practically humming in pleasure. It’s still not back to the way it had been, but it’s stronger than it was before he’d eaten the nos weed.

My mind is drifting into sleep now, my breathing evening out and becoming deeper, but I don’t miss the small, contented hum that rumbles through his chest as his arms tighten around me before I fall into blissful unconsciousness.

The sound of a horse neighing wakes me, and as I peel open my sleep encrusted eyes, I groan at my sore and aching limbs. I do not miss sleeping on cold, rocky floors. Sitting up, I stretch out my arms, enjoying the feeling of everything settling back into place as I look down at my companion. At some point during the night, I must have moved off his chest since we were lying side by side when I awoke. That’s when it hits me.

I slept on an elf’s chest.My breath catches in my throat and I have to take a large, calming breath.No, you’ve slept next to him before, pressed up against each other in trees. It wasn’t an issue then, why would it be one now?I justify. We’ve been on the run together for a while now, so it can’t be that I’m worried because he’s an elf.The only reason it would be an issue is if you have feelings for him.My eyes widen at the realisation.

Mother above, is that it? I have feelings for him?

I stare down at the still sleeping elf. Sure, he’s stunning in an exotic way, and we have this pull between us. I think back to the looks shared between us, and the fact he wouldn’t leave the castle without me even though he could.

No, he was just being kind,I theorise, shaking my head at the thought he could care for me in that way. He hates humans, and I don’t blame him for that, but I also can’t change who I am. Then I remember how I felt yesterday when I thought I had lost him. It was like someone had ripped my heart from my chest and the world would never be the same again.

What about Grayson? What about Tor? They’ve both made their feelings clear about you, you should stick with someone from your own race.As soon as I have the thought, I frown. It doesn’t sit right with me. Race shouldn’t matter when it comes to love.Love. Whoa, slow down.I’m working myself into a state. I know for sure I don’t love Vaeril, or Tor or Grayson for that matter, at least not yet. Who knows what could have developed if I’d had more time with them?

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